“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (NIV)
This helped me and I wanted to share it. Go here (it’s a devotional).
Welcome back!
There are things we often know, but sometimes lose sight of during difficult times. Today, I had one of the gentlest reminders as my family and I worshiped God.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve accepted (and even marveled) that God has a plan for each of our lives, and like the back of a woven tapestry, we often don’t understand the full extent or the “big picture” because all we see are a million little threads, each representing moments in our lives, woven throughout. Over the past few years, my family and I have faced some very difficult situations – things that have tried us and brought us to our knees. We’ve been so low where the only place we could look was UP. My faith has been tried over and over again. And, with each of those times, someone would say: “Just give it to God. This is part of His plan.”
At first, those words comforted me. But, after some really heart-wrenching events I became furious, “His plan? Well, maybe I don’t like His plan! Maybe His plan is FOR me to go through (what seemed like) endless trials and to hurt…maybe I don’t WANT that!?!”
Have you ever felt that way? – Like maybe Joel Osteen has gotten loud* a few too many times? Okay, so maybe I’m the only one who though “Oh crap.” when our pastor shared a sermon one day about God never promising us great times if we followed Him – and, here I was just hoping for my drink to be spiked with what ever Joel Osteen was having. Who really wants to hear that God has planned for you to lose your house, possibly your marriage, and maybe let’s throw in a baby too? – And, let’s not waste time, we’ll wad it up in the time frame of just a few years.
Yeh, suddenly that whole “God’s plan” thing just made me want to cry. Rather than being a thought of comfort, it was more like a threat. – Especially when nobody knew what to say…except “Give it to God.”
But, today I found an answer in a little devotional book. Basically, it said:
God made each of us, our desires and passions included. So, He knows us to our very core. And, He has awesome things planned for us – not just His idea of awesome, but OUR idea of awesome. And sure, we’re going to have to go through some REALLY rough things to get to those great and awesome things, but His plan for our lives aren’t CENTERED around those hard times. His plan is centered around the GREAT THINGS He wants for us. The bad stuff is just on the way, sometimes it’s what helps us get there and sometimes it’s to help shape us for what He’s prepared for us.
I’m not sure how what’s recently happened fits in exactly, and maybe I won’t ever know…but, it sure as heck is more comforting than before.
*”getting loud” means getting high with really good pot. I don’t necessarily know this from experience.
STATUS UPDATES:
I sit here, staring at my computer screen, not even knowing where to begin. Emotions have flooded through me, thoughts pounding away.
Quite simply, I don’t know what to do with this.
After all of the bleeding and clotting that came last night (a couple of overnight pads worth), I can’t believe I’d have much left inside. But, it still keeps on coming. The cramps have doubled, intensifying as my body pushes out things the ultrasound never picked up.
I’m sad, grieving for a baby I’ll never get to hold here on this Earth.
And, I feel so alone as I pass this baby and the hopes that went with it – with no one in the next room waiting to just sit and be with me. Yesterday, I waited alone, wondering when it would happen, still clinging to the faintest of hopes that I’d be among the tiny statistics of babies missed on ultrasounds, crazy math, or just wacky hormones doing their thing. I was hoping this pregnancy was salvageable.
Today, I yearn to climb back into bed with a bottle of tylenol and sleep the world away for a little while. I cry harder every time a new message comes – messages meant to inspire and comfort me. But, all I can do is cry. For me, it’s not just a matter of “making a new one.” I didn’t just lose a lego, I’m losing a baby – a baby that can never be replaced and will always be just a shadow in every family portrait. I can’t re-make THIS baby. This baby is gone.
I pick up my little Aurora, as she pulls on my shorts, feeling the cramps intensify. I never thought I’d be doing this alone. But, really, life goes on…even when it doesn’t. I’m afraid to answer the phone when it rings, unable to take in another “me too” story. I’m appreciative of the thoughts behind it, but I don’t think I can hear another one. Their babies don’t make me feel better about this one. Somehow, the thought that this happens a lot…and could easily again to me…doesn’t comfort me.
Between the sheets of my bed has become my “sanctuary.” I just want to curl up and read myself into another time, another place until my eyes close and I drift off to my own altered reality of dreams. ( I wish meals made themselves and that rather than being depended on, I could depend on someone else for a little while.)
I’m hurting and I’m sad. I’m scared about what this means for the future, and I’m hesitant. So hesitant.
I realize God uses everything for some bigger purpose – I’ve never doubted that, and there is no anger. But, it doesn’t make it hurt any less for now.
The spotting has increased – and is no longer an unassuming unobtrusive light brown. Light contractions and a dull ache has made it’s presence known. Or lack of, whichever.
My hcg levels came back – 496. Progesterone, 2.6. That’s really low. On both accounts.
Granted, my God is a mighty God, an awesome God – and true, miracles are always possible. I’m just not banking on my situation being one of them.
496 is a level consistent with anywhere between 1 and 3 weeks pregnancy (says my doctor’s nurse practitioner). I’m supposed to be at 6. And, while the numbers could have been swaggered a bit, possibly leaving me at 5 weeks…there’s no way to move it back as far as 3. Unless everything was just hanging out together, yet not, for a while (the actual fertilization can take up to a little over a week. CAN. Two or more weeks would be very unlikely. Possible, I guess, but in a tiny not so much sort of way.)
Then, of course, the bleeding…which says a lot on its own.
So, there we go. It’s over.
And yet, it’s not.
Today wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I’d held the magical pee wand only a week ago, it’s dark pink lines sending surges of joy through my heart. And, according to some quick calculations on Babycenter, I was a good 6 weeks and 1 day today. and being the neurotic person I am, I decided to do some research in my pregnancy journals.
With both girls, I was incredibly sick (those of you who have history with me on here…or stalk my archives (whichever) know this… in great gory detail. I’m good like that.). So, I was naturally curious as to when I could expect to start vomiting up my grocery funds. Then, curiosity led way to wonder – since, according to the journals I should already be sick. But, wait! Maybe it’s a boy! The magic Chinese Gender Chart says it’s a boy, so why not? Maybe I just don’t get sick with boys. Oh, heck to the yeah!
But, then there were the slight cramps…and the bit of light brown spotting (not much), but it’s enough to make me just want to know there’s a heartbeat. To know everything is going okay in there.
So, long story short…I went in for an “official” pee test. It was positive. Obviously. Only, the line was incredibly faint, where it had been much darker on mine. And, after asking about the quality of the tests, I was informed that those tests were STELLAR, better than mine. – Which only leaves one to question: Have my levels dropped THAT dramatically?
After the pee test, came the first ultrasound. There was nothing to be found. That ultrasound beget another ultrasound from a different office – which also found nothing. No heartbeat. No sac. No baby. Nothing.
I’m supposed to be 6 weeks pregnant, but there’s nothing there.
In the same sentence, I was told not to give up all hope yet and not to have high hopes.
I don’t know how to do that.
Because for me, this isn’t a set of multiplying cells. This is my baby. And I want it.
NOTES:
-My blood was drawn for hcg levels. Must go back in 48 hours for round 2 of Ashley The PinCushion. (I’m actually looking forward to it.)
-I may be: miscarrying, have a blighted ovum, chemical pregnancy, naughty baby that’s hiding from the ultrasound wand (it does look scary), earlier in my pregnancy than we thought due to miscalculations OR fertilization didn’t happen right away.
I’d really appreciate your prayers. I’m going to go take another pregnancy test (same brand I used when I first find out) to go compare line darkness because, yes, I am that neurotic. AND, because I can’t not do nothing. I figure if it’s just as dark as my other one, it means that my levels haven’t plummeted THAT low (as suggested by the “official pee stick”) and maybe then I can sleep tonight.
I have this ball of emotions and incoherent thoughts rumbling through my body, ready to take me captive at the first sign of weakness. And, for the most part, I really don’t want to pick through them to be able to write, to record. I don’t want to remember this. I don’t want to feel this. But, what’s “healthy” versus what I feel like doing, are probably two completely different things.
So, instead…here’s my burst of anger. My venting.
(PS – If you don’t like real…or if you tend to think things are about YOU, you should probably turn back now. As in, stop reading. I’ll try to follow this post up with cute and cuddly puppies that fart rainbows and skittles.)
Wednesday, I started bleeding. Thursday, I couldn’t get out of the bed because it was so heavy and the amount of cramping and nausea completely took over. Friday, the same. Saturday, I ventured out for a few hours but then found out quickly that it was way too soon to stand up for more than 3 hours. Sunday, the same.
It’s hard to think about what could’ve been, what might’ve been.
And, I’m dealing. The best way I know how. Which, might be at this point to just not deal.
For several days, I didn’t really mention anything except to my husband and mom and a couple of friends for advice as to whether I’d need to take a next step or if my body would take care of things on it’s own. I didn’t know what I thought or felt, beyond the ball of emotions and thoughts. I didn’t want to join some special club with special handshakes and secret forums. I didn’t want to face the possibility of insensitive comments.
I am not in need of a sermon. I don’t think I’m being paid in full for sins I’ve committed past. I don’t feel abandoned by God. I don’t blame God, possibly myself, but not God.
I also realize that I do have two beautiful children and that I am blessed. I know all things can be used for His glory.
I know this isn’t the end of things.
I know I’m not the only one. I also know that some women struggle with this on a more than occasional basis. But, this is new to me. And, no matter how many times it may happen in the future, I really doubt it’ll ever cease being “new” each time. So, no, I can’t talk about symptoms or steps as if it were seasonal allergies.
And lastly, this post isn’t about any of you. It’s about me. It’s about me feeling a little broken right now and being unable to “handle” it – possibly because there’s nothing really to “handle” or “control.” I don’t know.
There, I talked about it.
